Go Home, Eiri
by Danni Ikeda
Summary: Eiri kicks Shuichi out. Again. This time, Shuichi stays alone. When Eiri realises the boy is becoming like him, he decides to do something. But is it too late?


**Go home, Eiri.**

'Get out. Now.'

The voice of Yuki Eiri was cold, flat as he stared down at the usually hyperactive pink-haired singer that stood before him, now in tears. Tears that he had caused, as usual. It had become all too often lately that the boy cried over him. Too often that Eiri had hurt him, crushed and destroyed him.

'But... But Yuki... What did I-'

'I said get out. I want you out of this house, now.'

'Yuki, please! I- I swear to you, whatever I've done, I'll be better!'

Eiri closed his eyes, struggling with his own emotions. A low growl escaped his throat as he stared at the boy. In all honesty, what did he have to do? He didn't want to hurt him any more. He'd done enough to ruin Shuichi's life, and if he found out the latest – No. He would hurt him one more time, and then, Shuichi's life would be better.

Before he knew it, he'd taken a firm grip on Shuichi's shoulders, then thrown him back against the wall. The boy gasped in shock and pain, the wind knocked out of him momentarily. His wide eyes met Yuki's for a moment, fear meeting cold determination.

'Y...Yuki... You're...'

He didn't get out the next words, wincing as the older man's grip tightened painfully, before releasing, dropping him. Shuichi slumped back against the wall, half curled forward in pain.

'Now leave. I won't tell you again.'

Yuki spoke in a tone more emotionless than Shuichi had ever heard. For the first time, he was scared of his lover. With that, and the pain on top of it, he shook his head and backed out of the door, tears running down his cheeks. Then he ran.

He ran down to the ground floor, hearing the door slam behind him before he even reached it. He feared that Yuki may follow him, but he didn't know why. The novelist had never hurt him, not physically. Why now?

Back in the apartment, behind the locked door, Yuki Eiri slid to his knees, tears springing to his eyes then spilling forth as his world shattered with Shuichi's departure. A pain he had brought onto himself, knowingly and willingly. If but to save the boy any more pain - It was for his own good. But Eiri - Eiri simply stayed on his knees, one hand against the door, sobbing as he knew that his life would never be the same.

x-x-x-x

'Hiro... What did I do wrong...?'

Shuichi was sitting on his best friends' lounge, sobbing as he spoke to the red-haired band member. He'd gone there when he'd left Yuki's apartment, in tears and not understanding the reason for the novelists change.

'Shuichi... I don't know... I really don't.'

Hiro replied, not knowing what more he could say to comfort the boy. He'd known Shuichi was annoying and hard to handle, and that it annoyed Eiri to no end – but he'd never actually thought he would hurt the boy.

He gently put one hand on Shuichi's back and rubbed lightly, comforting the sobbing singer. Shuichi turned and leant into Hiro, head on his shoulder, shaking with the sobs that wracked his body. Hiro hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around the pink-haired wreck, holding him close as he cried.

'Shh… It'll be okay. We'll figure something out.'

'But… But Hiro… I just want Yuki… I need him… I wanted him to need me, too.'

Hiro fell silent, not knowing what more to say. He had almost begun to believe that Eiri needed Shuichi just as much. But now.. now, after what he had done, he wondered whether Eiri needed him more than ever, or if he didn't need him at all. Perhaps it would stay a mystery.

For now, however, Hiro simply held his best friend close as the boy cried his pain away. He cried for hours until eventually, he was too exhausted. He cried himself to sleep in Hiro's arms. And Hiro stayed awake, watching over him, prepared to chase away the nightmares if need be.

x-x-x-x

'Arigato, Seguchi-san.'

'Don't mention it, Hiroshi-kun. Just be sure that Shindou-kun recovers.'

'I will. With your generosity, it shouldn't be a problem.'

'I pray that you are right.'

Hiro inclined his head slightly forward to the NG producer, who returned the gesture before Hiro turned and left, fiddling with the key he held in his hand. The one that would hopefully be the key to bringing Shuichi out of the depression that he had fallen into over the past two days.

x-x-x-x

'Shuichi, I'm back…'

Hiro called as he walked into his apartment. There was no reply, but then, he hadn't expected one. Shuichi had been silent, awake or asleep, ever since he woke. Nothing Hiro had done so far had changed that. Yet.

'Shuichi! I've got something for you.'

Hiro called as though the other would come out at any moment, asking what it was. But he knew those times were gone. Shuichi was far from the person that he used to be. It was almost as though Shindou Shuichi did not exist anymore.

Knowing this, Hiro walked toward his bedroom – where he had left the boy eight hours ago. And that was exactly where he found him. Curled in the same position that Hiro had placed him in when he'd carried him from the lounge to the bed that morning, staring blankly at the ceiling.

'Shu-chan…'

There was a small noise in response. That was a slight progress, Hiro thought as he sat on the bed. He put his hand to Shuichi's forehead, then his wrist, checking his temperature and pulse. The same as he did every day, to make sure he wasn't running a fever.

'Come on, Shu. You're not sick. But, I've got something for you anyway. You might not like it, but you need it.'

As he said this, Hiro held up the key that Touma had given him. Shuichi stopped staring at the ceiling for a moment to glance at Hiro, then down at the key. Something crossed his eyes for a moment, gaze lingering for a few seconds before he looked away. Hiro sighed softly and closed his eyes for a second, then opened them to speak softly.

'It'll be good for you Shu. You can learn to live without him. And you know we'll all be coming over, at least once a day, if not more.'

A slight nod. That was more than he'd got for several days. So Hiro was satisfied with that, nodding and standing up. What he had to do was harder than he showed. He put the key down on the bedside table, then looked at Shuichi. Now or never, he thought.

'Come on. Get up and get dressed. I'll take you over there.'

Shuichi turned his head slightly, just looking at Hiro. The red-haired guitarist thought he was going to get upset, or yell, or plead to stay, a bit longer. Anything but what he did, which was to look away, silently pushing himself up off the bed. He walked through the house to his backpack, got some things, then went to get changed. Hiro watched him a moment, then sighed. He scooped up the key then went to sit on the couch, waiting.

x-x-x-x

'Looks okay, doesn't it?'

Hiro had driven Shuichi over to the new place. It was a small apartment on the second floor, but true to his word, Touma had it fully furnished for Shuichi. And Hiro had done his part, filling the cupboards and fridge with food. A six pack of beer and a packet of cigarettes were on the bench though, and Hiro had to wonder, as he hadn't put them there, and Touma hadn't mentioned it.

'Mm.'

Hiro's eyes went slightly wide as he heard the noise, in the middle of pushing one of the windows open. He turned to see Shuichi gazing around the place, showing some sign of life in him, though his eyes were oddly cold. Shuichi looked up at Hiro and raised a single eyebrow, as if questioning what the hell he was looking at.

'So… Do you like it?'

Shuichi walked through the place, eyes taking in every detail. He walked back and past Hiro, into the kitchen, glancing around. He noticed the items on the bench and shrugged. He looked up, back at Hiro. His friend shrunk at the look in his eyes – _so cold. _

'It'll do.'

His tone was flat, disinterested. At least he was talking, Hiro told himself. Yet he knew it would be awhile before Shuichi was back to his usual self. Thinking of this, the guitarist felt a surge of anger towards Eiri, trying to calm himself before Shuichi noticed it. But the other was staring at him, and Hiro began to feel that it was time to go.

'Well… I'll leave you to it for now… I'll come back over tomorrow, with some sheets and curtains… That sort of thing, you know.'

Shuichi simply nodded, still staring at Hiro. The other sighed, realizing that he wouldn't get any more conversation out of his friend today. He felt he was lucky to have got as much talk as he did. So thinking such, he made for the door, opening it before turning to look at Shuichi. Newly cold and hardened amethyst eyes rested on him.

'Well, just stay safe, and I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Shuichi.'

Shuichi nodded again, and Hiro lingered a moment longer before shaking his head, tossing the key to Shuichi before allowing the door to close behind him. He stared at the polished wood for a second, then turned and headed downstairs for his bike.

Inside the apartment, Shuichi glanced around the place once more. He wouldn't admit it, but the place was pretty good. The furniture was all new, and looked reasonably but not overly expensive. The walls were bare, but it was nice. It was simple. Easy. He didn't need difficult, not anymore.

He glanced at the things that sat on the bench, eventually reaching for the packet of cigarettes. He found out before pulling one out that they were 12mg. He simply shrugged and lit one, taking a long drag and breathing in the smoke. He looked next at the beer cans and shrugged again, cracking one open.

'If I'm going to smoke, why not drink, too?'

He asked himself out loud, then let a bitter laugh slip past his lips, shaking his head as he took another long drag from his cigarette. Back in some lost part of his mind, he wondered if this was the way Eiri had begun. If he had cracked a can and lit a cigarette right after losing Yuki. To death or not, loss was loss. And it hurt near as much.

'Eiri…'

Shuichi whispered quietly, then shook his head, starting to down the bottle of beer in his hand. He wondered for a second who had known he would need this, but it was gone a second later as he took a drag of his cigarette. Tonight, he was drinking until he forgot, and smoking until it didn't hurt anymore.

x-x-x-x

Shuichi slowly woke to find himself on the floor. He rolled onto his knees, groaning softly before he pushed himself to his feet. He'd somehow got into the lounge room. Stumbling, he made his way to the kitchen, finding the packet of smokes still sitting on the bench. Taking awhile, as he found it hard to focus, he finally lit the cigarette.

He had barely taken the first drag when he heard the knock at the door. He groaned and made his way to the door, pulling it open with more force than he intended to. As a result, Hiro was greeted with his friend looking much like Eiri always did – a cigarette hanging from his lips and a grumpy look on his face, leaning against the door.

'Taken up smoking?'

Hiro commented, a disapproving look on his face. All he got in reply was a half hearted grunt and Shuichi stepped aside to let him in. Hiro walked past him, glancing around before he noticed the empty beer cans – _all six of them._ He shook his head slightly and sighed, turning to look at Shuichi. He'd closed the door and was stood by it, arms folded, cigarette held between his fingers.

'Shu, is it a good idea to be drinking that much in one night? And taking up smoking?'

'Iie.'

'Then why?'

'Nothing better to do.'

Shuichi shrugged his shoulders, taking a long drag before going to the kitchen. He took a can of soda from the kitchen, having a drink before picking up the beer cans, throwing them into the trash one after the other. Hiro watched him a moment, then went to the window. He started hanging the curtains he had brought with him. Though they were more like drapes. Long black heavy pieces of material that shut out the light. Shuichi was glad for that.

The most part of the day was spent in silence. Hiro did what he could, then cooked for both Shuichi and himself, as he got the feeling that the boy wouldn't eat if he was left to do it himself. Not long after they ate, he left, needing to head to the studio. He was already three hours late.

After he left, Shuichi had a wander through the place, finding that in one small room, there was a black desk with a laptop set on top of it. He left it there, staying another hour before he found his key and locked up, leaving the apartment for a time.

Two hours later when he returned, he held a carton of smokes and a case of beer. That, he thought, should last him a few nights. Tossing the key onto the kitchen bench and dead bolting the door, he headed for the small room he had found earlier, then sat down with a packet of smokes, a six pack of beer, and the laptop in front of him.

He hardly moved for the next week – his cell rang. The door pounded as others tried to open it. Even the house phone, the one he didn't realize he had, had rung a few times. But the only times he moved were to get another smoke, a beer, go to the bathroom, or to collapse into bed. He chose not to eat, growing paler and weaker as each day passed. But he didn't really care.

He just typed. And thought. He smoked, and he drank. And he typed more. Occasionally, he slept. And once in awhile, he showered. But he didn't answer his phone. He didn't leave, except for more alcohol or smokes. And for that, he went out at night. And he spoke to no-one. Not until three weeks after he had left Eiri's.

His cell rang. He was in the middle of washing some dishes, the few that had been used. With his lack of energy, it startled him more than it should have, and the knife he had been washing slipped in his hand. He didn't even feel the pain, but he noticed that blood mixed with the soapy water.

Bringing his hand up, he realized the blade had nicked his wrist. It was actually rather deep. Out of the water, he could feel the cut – and it felt good. He didn't feel the pain in his heart and soul. He only felt the pain on his body. He couldn't think of anything else. It sent him numb.

And for some reason, that provoked him to answer the ringing cell.

'What is it?'

'_Shuichi.'_

'Eiri.'

Shuichi was actually shocked, though his voice remained flat. He continued a second later, before Yuki could answer.

'What do you want? And why are you calling me?'

'_I wouldn't if I didn't have to, brat.'_

'Then why.'

'_People are worried about you.'_

'Don't know why. I'm fine.'

'_I'm sure you are. Heard you've been drinking. And smoking.'_

'Hai. What would you care about it?'

A pause. _'You shouldn't.'_

'Why not?'

'_It doesn't make it any easier.'_

'Make what easier? I'm living quite happily, and I'm doing what I want.'

'_Glad to hear you're so free. Sorry to know it's bullshit.'_

'How would you know. You don't care. This is the first time you've called me in how long? Oh, right. Since you threw me out.'

'_I didn't exactly __**throw**__ you out Shuichi.'_

'You might as well have. Don't worry, Yuki. You won't have to worry about me for too long.'

'_And what's that supposed to mean?'_

'You'll see.'

_Beep._

On the other end, Eiri stared at the phone in shock. Shuichi had never spoken to him so coldly, nor had he ever hung up on him. But he just did. And what did he mean, not worry about him for long? Eiri would always worry – even if he wouldn't show it.

Shuichi looked down as he hung up the cell and put it down. While he had been speaking to Eiri, without even realizing it, he'd been drawing the same line on his skin. A single, deep, bloody line that scarred his flesh, filled the sink with red water.

He paused a moment, then shrugged. If he'd already started, he might as well continue, he decided. And so he did, dragging the blade through his flesh like butter. He winced through the pain, and at some point, tears began to roll down his cheeks.

He heard someone pounding at the door and shook his head. Then he heard his name being called. He tried to form the usual words of 'I'm fine, go away.', but somehow, they didn't form into vocal. He felt himself falling, and heard a crash. He must have hit something.

Within the next few minutes, he heard an explosion from the door way. He wondered what it was, but his eyes wouldn't focus long enough to find out. Groaning softly, he closed them, falling into the waiting darkness. His last thought was that he was glad he'd done every stroke on the same place, allowing him to pass it off as an accident.

-

K rushed into the apartment after blowing the lock with one of his many guns that he carried. He looked around the place, shaded eyes scanning as he walked slowly. From the lounge room, he suddenly saw a mop of pink hair. A second later, he had dropped his gun as he'd seen the blood that ran on the floor. He was by the boys' side in an instant, worried as he tapped the boys' cheek to try to wake him.

'Shuichi? Shuichi wake up, damnit. Come on, kid…'

Shuichi's only response was to groan in discomfort and roll his head away from the hand that continued to try to pull him out of the darkness he wished to sink into. The darkness of unconsciousness.

The hand stopped, and he was grateful for a moment, the instant giving him enough time to black out completely.

K lifted Shuichi as gently as he could, noting the boy had passed out as he carried him to the couch. He lay him down just as gently as he had held him, then ran to the bedroom. He searched for an old shirt, anything. He found one easily, that looked like it hadn't been worn in a year or two.

Ripping it into strips as he walked back to the family room, he knelt by Shuichi and tightly wrapped the wound, stopping the blood flow. Luckily, Shuichi had missed the vein. Yet it was deep enough that he got the feeling if he'd been left alone, he would have perished.

'Shuichi… What are you feeling that we're not seeing?'

K spoke softly, brushing the pink hair back. Then he turned and glanced through the place, shaking his head. Obviously Shuichi had been in the process of washing up, but beer cans littered the place. He pushed himself up, taking it upon himself to tidy the place a little while the boy slept.

x-x-x-x

Shuichi groaned softly as he woke and sat up slowly. For a few seconds, he was confused. Then it clicked that he was laying on the couch. And looking down, he saw that his wrist had been bandaged tightly. The cloth was stained, but it was dry. Sticky, though, he thought to himself.

He pushed himself off the couch and onto his feet, taking a second to steady himself. Then he walked to the kitchen, one step in front of the other, until he reached the kitchen bench where he had left his smokes. He lit one, looking inside the packet to realize he only had a few left. And he only had one packet left of the carton that sat on the desk in his computer room.

'Shindou-kun.'

He started at the deep voice, though didn't show it, turning his head slightly to glance at K from the corner of his eye. The man was standing there, guns holstered, staring at him. His arms were folded, and he had a look on his face that the younger male found he could not interpret.

'How did you get in?'

'Blew the lock.'

'Of course.'

Shuichi turned to face K, taking a drag of the smoke into his lungs before breathing it out. He was trying to analyze the older man's body language, and K knew it. His lips went thin and flat as he stared back at Shuichi, neither saying a word for a few seconds.

'Why did you come here, K?'

'Everyone's worried about you, Shindou. The band is falling apart without you. And by the looks of things, it's damn good that I blew that lock and got in here.'

'What, you think there's something wrong with me?' Shuichi took another drag. 'I was washing up, as you obviously saw. My cell rang and I slipped with the knife. It was an accident. So don't be thinking I need your pity, or anyone elses.'

'Didn't look like an accident to me. But sure, I'll take your word on that. But there's more. Hardly anything in the cupboards has been touched. All the same food.'

'I went out and bought more. Problem with that?'

'You're pale.'

'I don't go outside.'

'You look weak, like you're about to drop any second.'

'Restless sleep.'

'Shuichi…'

'K-san. I'm fine. I'm handling myself – _alone._ Isn't that what you wanted in the first place?'

'You know that's not true Shuichi. I just wanted you to be okay, and Hiro too. He wants you to be more than okay. It's hurting him to see you like this.'

'Like what?' Amethyst eyes, getting colder by the day, turned on K fully. The older man couldn't suppress the shocked look that passed his face as he saw Shuichi's eyes. Cold as ice. 'I am okay. That's what I keep trying to tell you all. I'm fine.'

'If you say so, Shuichi. But we all know better.'

'I think it's time for you to go.'

'I'll be back.'

'Maybe. One day.'

'Goodbye, Shindou.'

'Goodbye K.'

Shuichi closed the door behind the older man, then looked at the lock. It was completely shattered. Trust K to wreck the place, he thought, though he shrugged it off, picking up the phone and dialing the number for the locksmith. This might prove expensive.

x-x-x-x

A knock.

Eiri growled softly as he heard the intrusive sound. He was sitting inside his apartment, alone, as usual for the past four weeks. People kept knocking on his door, but he just told them to go away. He didn't want anyone in his house. Anyone but Shuichi. But that.. That was impossible, now. He'd never have that again.

Still, he pushed himself off the couch, an empty beer can rolling off his lap to hit the floor as he did so. Cigarette hanging from his lips, he stumbled to the door, then threw it open, glaring at whomever was standing behind it, daring to intrude on his silent depression.

'Hm. You really do have a clone.'

Hiro stood at the door, hands deep in his pockets, glaring at Eiri through the thin veil of long, red hair. Eiri's eyes narrowed slightly, even more than they already were, glaring at the man coldly as he moved the cigarette from his lips.

'And what's that supposed to mean, Nakano-san?'

'Just that I got exactly the same welcome from a certain Shindou-kun a few weeks ago. When he was still answering his door.'

That startled Eiri slightly. Not just the fact that Shuichi had answered the door with the same attitude as he, but that Hiro hadn't got through to him in a few weeks. The last time Eiri had spoken to him was about a week and a bit ago, when the boy had hung up on him. That made him wonder a little.

'Mm. Whatever. What do you want?'

'I want you to go see Shuichi. Do something to snap him out of this lifestyle. He's turning into you, Eiri.'

Eiri glared at Hiro for a few more seconds, then closed the door, not even answering him. He walked to the couch, sat down, then picked up his phone and dialed a number. On the other side of the door. Hiro smiled and nodded to himself, then turned and left.

x-x-x-x

'Where are you, Shuichi?'

'_Somewhere without you.'_

'A little more specific? There's a lot of places that could be.'

'Well I'm in one of them, so you should be happy. After all, you're the one who didn't want me near you. Don't tell me you've changed your mind.'

'I'm only on this phone because your friends are worried and bugging me.'

'So tell them I'm fine.'

'So I should lie to them?'

'Exactly. Eiri…' 

'What?'

A pause.

'Go home, Eiri.'

Beep.

That was the second time Shuichi had hung up on him. Eiri looked at the phone with anger and confusion. What did he mean, go home? He was home, he was sitting in his apartment, with a smoke and a beer, and his heart filled with conflicting emotions. This was the way it always was. At least… It was the way it had been, for the past four or more weeks, since Shuichi had run out of his life, away from him. Scared.

Eiri sighed and tipped the can up, pouring the contents down his throat. He kept at it until the can was empty, getting up simply to go to the fridge for another beer.

x-x-x-x

'Well?'

'You know as well as I that he doesn't want to speak to me, Nakano-san.'

'Why not? Put a gun to his head or something.'

'I already did as much. I'm not the person you should be asking to save him.'

'Then who?'

'You know who. Eiri is the only one that can save him now.'

'I know. Guess it's time for another visit.'

'Soon. Wait a few more days. You don't want to push either of them.'

'Mm. Bye K.'

'Bye Nakano.'

Hiro sighed as he hung up the phone. It had been a week since he'd asked Eiri to call Shuichi, and still, the boy wasn't letting anyone in, or answering his phone. He wondered what exactly Shuichi was up to, what he was trying to prove, or if he even cared enough anymore to prove anything to anyone.

He wondered to himself as he sat down and began tuning his guitar, if they had let the young vocalist go too far. If they'd given him enough room to do what he liked, and he'd taken himself too far to be saved.

Hiro simply sighed and shrugged the tension away, starting to play a few small lines of music. At least, he thought, he had his guitar to calm him down. What did Shuichi have, aside from alcohol and cigarettes?

x-x-x-x

Shuichi awoke slowly, groaning in pain and pressing a hand to his forehead. He mentally kicked himself for feeling so low. He should be used to this by now. It was what he had done for the past five or six weeks. Though, when he looked around, he suddenly realized why he was so sore.

He was in the bathroom.

Using the sink to pull himself up, he noticed blood on the corner. He frowned in confusion for a moment, then lifted a hand to his head. After feeling around for a moment, he found dried liquid matting his hair together at the back of his head. Another few moments of thinking led him to the conclusion that he'd drunk way too much the night before, gone to the bathroom, passed out, and hit his head on the way down.

'That makes sense.'

He muttered to himself as grabbed his hair brush, then looked at the mirror. An unhealthily thin, pale youth stared back at him with empty, tortured amethyst eyes. With jet black hair. He sighed as he ran the brush through his hair, realizing it would take awhile to get used to this.

He'd bought the black hair dye a week or more ago, but he hadn't touched it. Obviously, last night, he'd decided to do it. Though he didn't remember most of the night, which was bad. He'd definitely had way too much to drink. Yet, he didn't feel the inclination to cut back. So what if he'd had too much and didn't remember? It wasn't like anyone cared.

That was when his cell phone rang. He sighed and picked it up without even looking at who was calling.

'Yes?'

'Shuichi.'

'Eiri.'

'Are you okay now?'

'What do you mean, am I okay now?'

'You don't remember?'

'Remember what…? Oh. Last night. No, I don't remember anything.'

'I'm not surprised. With what you told me.'

'What did I do?'

'Mmh. You told me you'd had a few beers, then you started on something stronger. Told me a neighbour had dropped a bottle off for you. You didn't even know what it was.'

'Oh. That was stupid.'

'That's what I told you. You were also saying some things to me.'

'Like what?'

'…I think you'll remember in time. Shu… I really do care what happens to you.'

Shuichi paused. Did Eiri really just say that to him? No… He wouldn't have. Unless…

'Shu?'

'Go home, Eiri.'

He hung up the phone, before Eiri could respond. That was three times now, that he'd spoken those words to Eiri then hung up on the older novelist. And he got the feeling that it would be many more times ahead.

He went to the kitchen, grabbing a packet of smokes from the carton on the bench. He'd gone out the day before to buy more. He was going through a pack or more of smokes every day, and a case within three days. He was becoming even worse than Eiri, slowly and steadily.

He ripped a smoke out of the packet and lit it, taking a deep drag of the smoke before leaning on the counter. His head was spinning faster than usual. He was used to feeling weak, but not this bad. Over the past five or six weeks, the most he'd eaten was the few meals Hiro or K had cooked for him. Over the last two weeks, the most he'd eaten was two packets of instant noodles and a packet of chips. For the rest, it was coffee, beer, and cigarettes.

He took another long drag of the cigarette, taking the deadly smoke into his lungs before breathing it out. Though with every breath he was taking, he was steadily feeling weaker. He glanced at his cell, realizing as he did so that his vision was blurring slightly.

Still, as well as he could, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. He lifted it to his ear, hand shaking slightly as he listened to the ringing of the phone.

x-x-x-x

Eiri was sat on his couch with a coffee when he heard his cell ring. He rolled his eyes, thinking it was his editor, as she had been calling often lately. Still, he picked up the cell, frowning as 'Shindou Shuichi' flashed across the screen.

'Shuichi?'

No answer. Straining to listen, he found that he could hear soft, ragged breathing. Strained breath, as though the boy was in pain. Then a second later, he heard his name gasped out.

'Eiri…'

'Shuichi?! What's-'

Eiri paused as he heard the boy groan, then his eyes went wide as he heard a thump, then a smash. He guessed that Shuichi had passed out, knocked something down, and it had smashed. He stared at the phone a moment, then quickly dialed Hiro's number. He needed to find where Shuichi was. He growled as the phone rang. And rang. Then…

'Eiri? What're you-'

'Where's Shuichi?'

'What? Why-

'Just tell me, damnit! Don't ask questions!'

'Alright, alright! He's on the second floor of the apartment block next to the park.'

'Good. Don't come.'

'Wait just a-'

Beep.

Eiri hung up. Or more like, he dropped the phone, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out. He didn't even bother locking his door. Shuichi was more important than anything he had in his apartment. And he decided it was about time he showed the boy. He obviously wasn't any better off, and Eiri couldn't keep living like this. Not without Shuichi.

All the way there, Eiri pushed his limits. He was doing 120km in a 70km zone all the way, but he didn't much care. He had to get there in time. He wouldn't lose him any more than he already had.

He got to the apartment block, thankfully seeing it from far enough away to swing the car around, skidding to a stop just before the wall. He just managed to rip the keys out of the ignition before he threw himself out of the car door, then straight into the building. He bolted up the stairs to the second floor until he saw a single black door.

He ran straight for it, then realized it was locked as he tried to open it, and failed. He raised his fist and pounded on the door, yelling out his ex-lovers name as loudly as he could. Yet there was no answer.

He stepped back a second, growling in frustration as he looked at the door. Then his eyes changed. The boy he loved so much he would die for was behind that door, possibly dying slowly. His car was downstairs, ready to take him to where he belonged. And the only thing that stood between them was a locked door.

In seconds, the wood had splintered, as Eiri had just put his fist through it. He growled in pain for a second, before quickly ripping his thoughts back to Shuichi. He turned his hand and flicked the lock, then pulled his hand back and opened the door.

He bolted straight into the apartment, looking around with a deep fear in his heart. He was worried that it would be too late. As it was, it took him a few moments to find Shuichi, as he was used to looking for the mop of pink hair. The shock he received in finding that Shuichi now had black hair was indescribable.

'Gods, Shuichi…'

'Nnh… Eiri…'

Shuichi moved his head to the side, shocking Eiri slightly. He brushed the hair back from Shuichi's face gently, his fingers running over the boys' lips for a moment as he pulled his hand back towards himself. He was a little surprised to find blood in his hair, though he couldn't see it, he could feel it.

'Where's the key, Shuichi?'

'Bench…'

Eiri got up, looking around. He finally spotted the key next to Shuichi's smokes. He shrugged and pocketed it, then knelt beside Shuichi.

'Come on, kid.'

'Eiri…'

'I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. Rest, darling.'

Eiri whispered softly, then gently lifted Shuichi into his arms. The young singer rested his head on Eiri's shoulder, black hair falling over his eyes. He couldn't even find the energy to raise his arms, leaving one over his stomach, one hanging. Eiri held him close as he ran down the stairs after closing the door, the movement sending Shuichi into deep rest.

As gently as he could, Eiri set Shuichi in the passenger seat of his car, making sure he was buckled in securely before jumping into the drivers seat. He started the car then turned, tires screeching as he pulled out of the lot and headed home.

x-x-x-x

Shuichi woke slowly and sat up, then stopped, hand flying to his head as he fell back against what he found was a few pillows. He frowned in confusion as he found he was on a familiar surface. Then slowly, the memories came back. He'd felt himself about to pass out, and called Eiri.

Slowly and carefully, he pushed himself up, making sure that he fully had his balance before glancing around. He received a shock when he found where he was, though he still doubted the place.

He couldn't doubt it was the bedroom he had shared with the older novelist, however, as Eiri entered, carrying a steaming mug. He could smell chicken, and found he had guessed right when Eiri pushed the cup into his hands, then crouched in front of him.

'Good to see you awake. Are you okay?'

'Uh… Yeah. I'm fine.'

'Now Shuichi.' Eiri began, one eyebrow raised. 'You know I don't believe that.'

'Not that you care.'

'Shuichi…'

'No, Eiri. You don't… don't…'

'Shuichi, shut up and drink the soup.'

Shuichi felt himself slipping away slowly. He was going to pass out any second. Eiri's voice was a whisper, and he couldn't properly see Eiri through the blurred vision. But he was roughly brought back to earth as he felt the cup pushed to his lips. He opened his mouth and drank slowly, gulping the hot liquid down. It made him feel sick, but better at the same time. He downed the entire cup, then opened his eyes, looking at Eiri.

'Arigato…'

'Not a problem. Do I still have to convince you that I care?'

'I know you don't… Why would you… You…'

For the first time in at least three weeks, if not more, tears sprang to Shuichi's eyes. And though he tried to fight them off, he found within seconds that they were rolling down his cheeks. And without thinking, he said the words that had so confused the novelist every time he hung up on him.

'Go home, Eiri.'

'Shu… Can't you see?'

Eiri sighed as Shuichi shook his head slightly, teary amethyst eyes meeting his cold eyes. At least, eyes that were usually cold, but at the moment, were filled with emotion. He pulled the younger singer into his arms, ending up crouching with Shuichi on his knees, hugging close. Eiri sighed and ran his hand through the jet black hair.

'I am home, Shuichi. Wherever you are, be it here, in the park, down the street, or at your apartment – I'm home as long as I'm with you.'

'Eiri…'

Shuichi's voice came in a whisper, and he embraced the novelist tightly, shaking slightly as he cried. Eiri let him cry for a few moments, then slowly slipped his hand underneath the boys' chin, bringing his face up to look at him. Shuichi looked up, searching Eiri's face for a few moments before he closed his eyes as he felt the novelists' lips over his own. Rough lips meeting Shuichi's soft lips.

The kiss lasted a few seconds, then they fell back into a tight, comfortable embrace, Eiri holding Shuichi close as the boy continued to cry, shaking and sobbing in the older mans' arms. Eiri did his best, shushing him and rubbing his back gently, trying to calm him.

'Shuichi… Stay with me… I'll never make you leave again… Please….'

'I… I'll stay…. I love you, Yuki.'

'I love you, Shuichi. Stay with me…. Forever.'

Eiri was pleading, begging, needing Shuichi to promise he would stay with him. And he got his wish, nearly dissolving into tears himself at Shuichi's next words.

'And Always.'

Shuichi whispered back softly, then fell asleep against the man, safe in his arms once more. Forever and always.


End file.
